Schirm:: Pt 1
by KikiKabuki
Summary: prequel series to ::Porcelain:: series. -- pre-PH - Oz & Gilbert's childhood. -- Oz is intent on claiming that cute little servant boy as his and his alone.. -- 3 chapters total.
1. Chapter 1: Replay

**::Schirm::  
**((an OzBert))  
Prequel to ::Porcelain::

Chapter 1: Replay

"Young master…it's time to wake up..."

"Mmmmph…" Oz groaned, turning his back to the little servant by his bedside, and resettling himself deep under the poofy blankets of his warm bed.  
"Please, young master! Your breakfast will get cold if you don't get out of bed at once! And if your breakfast is cold, I _know_ you'll refuse to eat it! And if you don't eat breakfast, Misses Kate will have my h—…!" Gil was cut off by a stealthy hand snatching his wrist and pulling him down onto the bed. The blond demon pulled Gil under the covers, trapping his helpless little servant beside him in a relentless embrace.

"You haven't done your job properly this morning, Gilbert." He scolded as smooth as chocolate while hugging Gil as if he were one of the hundreds of lacey pillows scattered over his king-sized bed.

The raven-haired teen squirmed in the grip of his master, who was grinning like a gremlin, "… I haven't…?!" he squeaked.  
"No, you haven't," Oz pushed Gil onto his back and sat on his stomach, pinning him down while he flailed, grunted, and sobbed for mercy, "You're supposed to walk in, sit on the edge of the bed, say _'Ohayou gozaimasu, Ozu-bocchan~'_ in your cute little voice, and then wait for me to wake up." Oz paused, looking down at his now-red-faced servant, turning to place himself over the fourteen-year-old on all fours, in the same manner a cat would pin a mouse down before devouring it. He even wore a cat-like smirk and his green eyes gleamed with mischief.

"And then…when I wake up and open my eyes…" he continued, leaning down closer to the trapped, squeaking mouse beneath him, "…you're supposed to lean in….and… then—…."

He lulled him closer, his breath washing over the younger boy like waves on a still shore. Gil couldn't help but to follow his lead and fall to his master's intoxicating charm. He couldn't pull away, even if he'd wanted to. He was frozen, as if the closeness cast some sort of spell on him. His eyes fluttered and closed slowly. Oz eliminated the remaining space between them, carefully pressing soft lips together. He lingered there, the firm kiss marking his property.

The Bezarius boy sat up, straddling Gil victoriously, grinning from ear to ear, "Yeah! Like that."

Gil couldn't respond—(whether it was because his innards being mushed from being sat on, from embarrassment from Oz's actions, or from shame of disappointing his master, he wasn't sure. Maybe it was a combination of all three)—he lay there silently, eyes wide, as the blonde continued to smile down at him.

"…..Well..?" Oz rolled off of Gil, sitting up on the bed indian-style and watching for the next move, "You gonna fix it, or does Ada's kitten get Gil-guts for breakfast this morning?"

"…Hm?" Gil paused, taking a while to recollect his hazed senses, "O-Oh! I, uh…N-no! That won't be necessary, Master," he scrambled off of the bed and stood next to it, bowing,

"Gil would be honored, Bocchan…if he were given the chance to try again, and do it _properly_ this time…"

Oz smirked, "Make it quick now, I don't have all morning."

Gil turned towards the bedroom door, then paused, "…Uhm…would you…pretend to be asleep, please…?"

The blonde laughed, "Just get on with it already!" He kicked the 14-year-old in the butt before slinking back under the covers and peeking to watch the little servant scurry out and hide behind the door.

Oz waited.

And waited.

And anticipated.

And fidgeted.

And grumbled.

Until finally, a frail voice cooed from outside the door:

"A-are you asleep yet, Bocchan…?

Oz rolled his eyes, groaning loudly, "yes, Gilbert," his voice was smothered in sarcasm, "I am faaaaaast asleep."

Gil beamed, pushing a stray curl from his eyes, taking in a deep breath before striding back into the room with hesitant confidence,

"O-…ohayou…gozaimasu. …Ozu-Bocchan."

He watched one green eye peek up at him from underneath the covers. Gil peeled the blankets carefully from the boys head.

"Mmf…" Oz pretended to be groggy from sleep, eyes closed, waiting patiently like a frog prince.

He smirked when a pair of thin lips brushed the corner of his own mouth. Gil's kiss, unlike Oz's, was hesitant, light, and brief. He pulled back, face a furious red. The blonde grinned, amused at the other boy's fluster. He flicked Gil's forehead with his index finger.

"…That's better. Could still use some practice though… Now, go fetch my breakfast here!" he ordered in his best manly voice.

Gil paused. How could he have forgotten about his master's meal?! "U-uh… Young Master… I'm afraid.. by now, it may be—"

"Cold?" Oz asked rhetorically, "You'll receive punishment for that _later_. Meanwhile, go make me a new breakfast."

"H-hai…" Gil whimpered as he dipped into a low bow, "Which breakfast would please the young master this morning?"

"Pancakes. Strawberry. Steaming hot."

"E-eh— Of course!"

Oz watched the raven-headed teen scramble out of the bedroom. He smiled, letting a big breath fill his lungs, then slip out as a sigh. He cuddled up against the fluffy pillows, pulling the cloud-like comforter up over his head. He grinned with eyes shut tight and held the pillow tenderly, thoughts of a golden-gazed servant boy lulling him into daydreams.


	2. Chapter 2: Ritter

::Schirm::

((an OzBert))

Prequel to ::Porcelain::

Chapter 2: Ritter

_BANG!_

The loud crash ripped Oz from his daydreams. He groaned, rolling over in bed, his nerves now on end. He cursed the maids for their carelessness before squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to regain his peaceful state of mind.

…No peace returned. It was only a few moments later when he could hear Misses Kate yelling angrily.

But…it wasn't the maids' names she was screeching.

It was—…

"GILBERT, YOU FOUL, CARELESS EEL, I OUGHT TO—"

Oz didn't need to hear anymore before he sprang from the bed and booked it out of the room and down the stairs furiously.

He made his way into the kitchen with tightly clenched fists, and a tighter-clenched jaw. He stopped dead in his tracks upon entering the kitchen.

It was almost /completely/ covered in flour; the cupboards, the floor, and the counters all sprinkled with the powder. It was even floating around in white puffs in the air.

Oz strode in as Mrs. Kate continued scolding the raven-haired servant boy, whose clothes were now stained half-white from the flour. It would have made him blend in with the floor he was perched on, if he weren't shaking violently and sobbing aloud.

"I-I'm so s-sorry Mis-ses Keito! I-I just—"

The ornery old woman scoffed, "No excuses! You'll have this room SPOTLESS before—"

"A-HEMMM." Oz cleared his throat over exaggeratedly.

Gil and Mrs. Kate both turned suddenly to look at him. Gil melted at seeing his master, hanging his head low. Kate, however, scowled and stepped towards the Bezarius teen,

"/This/ little rat tried to reach the top cupboard and dropped the flour bin /everywhere/." She tattled snootily, childishly for her old age. Oz watched her blankly as her finger pointed shakily to the crying, flour-clad boy on the floor.

"Leave." Oz ordered, "Now."

Kate smiled, turning to Gil victoriously.

"Not him. _You_."

Mrs. Kate did a double-take, "B-but…young master…!"

"At once, if you don't mind. I will clean up the mess. Now leave us." Oz's gaze remained apathetic.

The woman wiped her hands on the skirt of her dress guiltily before turning on her heel and leaving the kitchen to the two teens.

Oz sighed, stepping slowly over to the other boy, who was still on all fours, head hanging low in embarrassment of the state his master had to see him in, waiting to be scolded by him as well.

The blonde knelt down next to him, holding out a hand.

Gil looked up carefully. First at the hand. Then into the bright emerald eyes of his master. The expression on Oz's face; calm, serene, forgiving… It melted Gilbert's innards. He grit his teeth and hiccup-sobbed, taking the blonde's hand with both of his own, holding it above his head and bowing lower.

"G-Gomenasai…! Gomen—… Ozu, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, I only wanted to make the young master's meal and—"

He was dragged up onto his feet before he could finish. He blinked cluelessly, standing now only a half a head shorter than Oz, who was smiling wholeheartedly at him.

The Bezarius boy shook his head, reaching out to wipe the mushy-floury tears from Gilbert's face.

"I know. It's okay. I didn't really want breakfast anyways."

Oz pulled him into a tight hug.

Gil squirmed against him, "B-Bocchan…! I'm all covered in flour! If you do that, you'll get dirty!"

"Oh, quiet!" he squeezed Gil tighter, then released him, ruffling his rugged black hair, causing more flour to flutter around in the air above them, "Like I care about /that/."

Before the younger could object, Oz had snatched him by the hand and dragged him away to the washroom. His_ personal _washroom.

Gilbert gasped, "N-No! I can just bathe in the servant's washroom! Really!!"

But Oz didn't let go. He shut the door and began running the water in the large marble bathtub, which the servant boy never thought he'd have the honor to; more than /scrubbing/.

"Hop in the tub," the little master commanded, "I'll run grab you some clean clothes, 'kay?"

Gil simply stared at the elegant, shiny tub in awe and denial. There was no way he was allowed to bathe in it… No way…

"If you don't hurry, the cats might smell the flour on you and track you down…"

Gil's hand tightened on Oz's. He looked up at him, wide-eyed as the blonde laughed.

"O-…..Ozu……"

"It was a joke, just get in the tub!"

"B-but—…!"

"CATATTAAAAAACK~!" The teasing blonde pushed the younger teen, causing him to flail and topple over into the tub of warm water.

"UWAAAA!" Gil sobbed, sitting in the bathtub with legs hanging over the edge all askew, "Ozzzzz-hz-hzzzzz!"

But his master had already bolted out of the room (while "Nyaaaa!"-ing psychotically), leaving him alone in the silent, stark white, echoey bathing room.

Gil fidgeted, pulling himself all the way into the tub, his clothes becoming heavy from the water clinging to it. He sniffled, wiping his face with one hand. He felt undeserving. Why had Oz saved him from Misses Kate's scolding? He'd even offered to clean up the mess that Gil himself had made! It was so unfairly kind.

He stuck his head under the running faucet of the bath, washing the baking flour out of his hair and from his face. The water was warm, warmer than he was used to in a bath. The one's he'd usually take were bitter, cold, in a rustic-smelling all-too-small tub. It was like heaven to be able to stretch his legs and lay back in the water; To be able to dunk his head underneath without getting spine-racking shivers from the water's cool temperature.

"Ta-da!" Oz shuffled back into the room, setting a fresh outfit on the stool next to the tub, "You can change into those after."

Gil sat up in the water, looking at him in astonishment. He hadn't expected clean clothing.

"…of course, you owe me one for that." Oz trailed off, mumbling in defeat, trying to peel his mind from the thought of how enchanting the younger boy looked, perched upright in the water, eyes wide with excitement and disbelief, not unlike a little child on Christmas morning.

"Mmh! Of course!" Gil beamed up at him, "Thankyou…Bocchan."

Oz made no reply.

Gil looked down at the water, now a bit murky from the flour that had been stuck to him. He turned to his master, who seated himself down on the floor next to the bathtub, leaning his side against it.

"Don't beat yourself up, alright? …For the incident with Misses Kate. She's just… a stick in the mud."

Gil blinked, "But—"

"It wasn't your fault."

The brunette scowled, confused. Why did Ozu-bocchan look so upset? His head hung low and his replies were curt and abrupt. He didn't even bother with teasing Gil.

"Maybe…" Gil cleared his throat, his voice cracking slightly, "…after I clean the mess…we could finish making those pancakes. And have a brunch together…!"

He almost regretted having said it, since Oz kept pretty silent, but then the blonde turned, grabbing Gil by under the arms and pulling him up into a hug, the edge of the bathtub being the only thing between them. He held onto the boy tightly, burying his head in his neck.

"Nh…! ...Bocchan….?"

"Mmh…?"

Gil smiled softly, bringing his arms up around his master's lightly, cautiously,  
_"Thankyou."_


	3. Chapter 3: Butterfly Boy

::Schirm::  
an OzBert  
(( Prequel to ::Porcelain:: ))  
Chapter 3:  
Butterfly Boy

Gilbert straightened the cravat on the baggy, oversized outfit, lent to him by his master. He gazed into the mirror, his reflection smiling softly back at him. The foot cuffs of the slacks had to be rolled up a few times so he wouldn't trip on the much-too-long pant legs. The shirt was just as big, a deep purple blouse, hanging airily on his scrawny, fragile shoulders. He rolled the long sleeves up as well, though they occasionally fell back over his hands again.

He pushed a stray strand of raven hair from his face with the back of his hand, sighing and turning away from the mirror. He set the damp clothes he'd change out of in the corner of the bathing room, reminding himself to wash them later.

Gil left the room, making his way carefully down into the kitchen, where Oz Bezarius had four frantic maids wiping, sweeping, and mopping the spilt baking flour form all the kitchen surfaces. The younger boy shook his head incredulously.

"So /this/ is how Bocchan 'cleans up the mess himself'?"

The blonde turned to see his little servant standing at the door, dressed in Oz's own clothes, which hung from the smaller boy loosely, accentuating his short stature and thinness.

"I myself find it quite the clever strategy." Oz replied, voice sweetened with his best self-righteous, sly-guy tone.

He slunk over to Gilbert's side, tugging at the torso part of the violet blouse on the other teen.

"This color suits you."

"M-My young master simply as nice taste."

"You flatter me."

"I do believe /I'm/ the one being flattered, bocchan. I don't deserve bocchan's compliments…nor his kindness. Nor his—"

"Hey. I don't give Gilbert anything that I don't think he has earned." Oz knocked on Gil's forehead with one fist, "Now I'm craving a sandwich. And I picnic outside, with my favorite little future uke!"

Gil blinked at the grinning blonde next to him. He tugged Oz's sleeve lightly, confused,

"Little…future…" Gil tilted his head, "Huh?"

"I'll show you when you're older, I promise." Oz giggled mischievously.

So Gil made a pair of sandwiches, packed them in a basket, and carried it out the door with Oz in the lead.

Gil had to half-run to keep up with Oz's long strides. For every step Oz took, Gilbert took two. The small picnic basket slowed him down as well,

"Ozu…?"

"Hm?"

"Where are we going?"

"Dunno yet, Gil."

"Oh…….did you invite Ada?"

"Not this time, Gil."

"Oh……Why not, Bocchan?"

"This time's special, Gil."

"Oh……okay…"

"Mmh."

"….special how?"

Oz laughed, "It's a secret, Gilbert. Just be patient."

"…..yes, Bocchan."

They were both quiet the rest of the way there, following the paved path with no specific destination in mind; only looking for a decent, secluded picnic spot.

The one Oz found wasn't far from the manor house. There were a few scattered trees, letting the light strain through in selective streams of gold. The grass was a deep green; and soft; inviting like a good picnic spot should.

The blonde smiled, pointing to the perfect patch of picnic grass, "There."

Gil smiled back, nodding, and then nearly dropped the basket when the 15-year-old entwined their hands and ran full-speed towards the picnic spot, dragging the other behind.

"Ch-chotto matte, Bocchan!!" Gil cried while frantically running to keep up with the blonde dragging him away excitedly by the hand.

Oz pushed Gil down into the grass before sitting down Indian-style himself. The blonde snatched up the picnic basket and peeked in, digging through it nosily.

Gil straightened out his baggy outfit, re-rolling the sleeves and legs so he wouldn't trip and could use his hands. He picked a thin strand of the fresh grass. It was such a bold, lively shade of green. /Green is nice,/ the raven-haired boy reminded himself, playing with the grass distractedly, /I like green…/

He turned to find his master staring at him intently. The shade of the blonde's eyes was much deeper, much livelier than even the most well-cared-for field of grass in the world.

The little servant smiled, feeling his own pulse hot in his face; he looked back down at the strand of grass he has pulled.

.. "Is…Oz going to eat…?

The Bezarius boy chuckled, "No, I dragged out all the way out here so that I can stare at you."

Gil blinked. W-Was that….sarcasm…? Or--…?

Oz went on, smirking slyly, "The picnic basket was just an excuse to have you make me a lunch and use it to take me out."

Gold eyes widened, "D-Deito..?"

Oz watched the younger boy squirm in fluster with much amusement of his own. He looked down, prodding at a small butterfly that had landed and was resting on the grass. It crawled away from the blonde boy who was poking at it. When he didn't stop pestering it, the little insect jumped into the air, plunging into quick spurts of flight, before disappearing into the sky.

Both the teens watched in silence, waiting for the butterfly to flutter back down gracefully. It didn't. Gilbert turned to Oz,

"It's…gone?"

"No." Oz smiled, "It'll be back."

So Gilbert stayed there, watching the cloud-clad sky patiently. The older boy grinned at the other. He was just so cute, scouting the sky for the lost butterfly, waiting as loyal as a princess for true love's first kiss.

Oz lay back in the soft ground, "When it comes back, you'll catch it for me."

"Hair, Bocchan!" The raven-haired boy replied zealously.

They basked in the warm Summer air for minutes, hours, how long they weren't sure of and didn't care; Oz om-nommed his sandwich contently and Gilbert ran and flailed around to catch a butterfly.

Within a few minutes, the brunette waddled over to his master, hands cupped closed in a bowl,

"Oz, look~!" he called, holding his hands out in front of him.

The blonde peered at him curiously, "Hm…?"

Gilbert opened his hands to show off the two butterflies he'd caught to his Bocchan. But as soon as they could be seen, they flew into the air, jumping instantly into the distant blue. Oz laughed, eyes shining with glee. The insects danced together so gracefully.

He looked back to the little servant boy, who was pouting at his now-empty hands.

"Th-….they're gone…" his big baby-ish eyes squinted in distress, eyebrows furrowing, "I-…I caught them for /you/, Oz. And…now they're gone…! I'm so sorry! Hontounigomennnnnn~"

The Bezarius giggled, "Shh. Don't worry about it…!" he took Gil's empty hands, pulling them up, back around his own neck, then wrapping his own arms around the boy's thin waist. "Oh, look!" Oz teased flirtatiously, "You caught one!"

Gil turned pink, then smiled softly, "Mhmm! The best one of them all."

"Oh, don't be such a sap!"

Gilbert cleaned up the picnic spot when they decided to go back. Gathering everything into the small basket, while commenting quietly,

"Ozu-bocchan is…" he smiled serenely, "…a lot like a butterfly."

The blonde perked up, eager to hear the other's insight on him, "How so…?"

Gil stopped packing and watched the ground with that dreamy smile still stuck on his face, "He's beautiful. Energetic, and distracted. Sometimes…it's hard for Gil to keep up. But…" he stood up, picking the basket up with an unwavering smile in his eyes, "That just makes it so very worth it when I can finally reach, and catch him."

Oz blinked, face turning red, "What did I say about that sap stuff?!"

Gil giggled, "Sumi-masen, Bocchan."

Oz scowled in fluster at the ground, grabbing Gilbert's hand, leading him back towards the manor,

"Let's go home…"


End file.
